


Cold Metal

by Odetothepantaloon



Category: Original Work, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Abortion, Bad Pun, English Homework, F/M, First Meetings, M/M, Mormon friend writes the gay, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odetothepantaloon/pseuds/Odetothepantaloon
Summary: "See you in Germany."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written by two different people as a school assignment.
> 
> Same story from different perspectives.
> 
> My teacher gave me a B for my chapter of this story and I still resent her for that.

Running was probably her worst mistake. When Sebastian wrapped his long, slender fingers around the girl with ice blue eyes and fire red hair’s shoulder, we knew the worst was yet to come. We were wrong. He was uncharacteristically nice this time.

 

“Please don’t kill me.” She whined, trying to choke back a sob.

 

“Just don’t do it again,” he said with a smile. 

 

It was at that moment that time began to stand still. The only thing we heard was Sebastian muttering  “I’ll make sure of it.” Still with the now sickeningly sweet grin on his face.

 

The only thing we saw was the blade of his blood-stained pocket knife glide across her neck.

The only thing we saw was her ice blue eyes fade of all light.

The only thing we saw was her collapsing into the pool of her blood, gasping, trying to hold onto her last bit of life.

The only thing we saw was her chest move down but never come up again.

The only thing we sat was her fire red hair mix with the crimson color of her own blood.

 

Sebastian walked away almost gleefully. Brendon said nothing. He just watched, feeling indifferent. We all sat against the wall in shock.

 

Her name was Savanna. She was only 13.

 

When I first joined, I was 15 years old. I was naive and thought I was in love. It was just a complex way to trick us into working into them.

 

When I first met Brendon Urie he was the paragon of a perfect gentleman. I first fell in love with his peridot green eyes. I then fell in love with his charming, confident personality. Finally, I fell in love with the way he always let me depend on him.

 

But before I met Brendon, before my life was ruined, I had a family.  _ Had _ . 

 

My family was perfect. I had a 4.0 GPA all through high school, a good boyfriend and a slight sour patch kid addiction. All of our family pictures were always lined in perfect, pretty row. Family is forever. “We love you, Alice.” My parents said every single night before I go to bed. My family was perfect.

 

Glancing down to my shaking hands, I took a deep breath. Positive, it said.

 

Screwed. I was so screwed. I collapsed to the bathroom sobbing. Why? Why, why, why. why me?

 

After a while I am able to stop crying. I lift myself off of the bathroom floor. I slowly walk down the stairs bumping into the picture frames. As I do I knock one of them off the row.

 

“Mom?” I say once I gain the courage to confront her and my father. They were both sitting on the dark brown leather couch that seats 4 people. I fix my eyes on the movie shelf full of blockbuster movies next to the couch instead of my parents. “I’m, I am uh, well, I’m pregnant.”

 

My mom dropped whatever self-help book she was always reading. My dad shifted his eyes to the ground refusing to look at me. 

 

“How?” she asked after an extended awkward silence. 

 

I open my mouth to reply with some smart aleck comment about the birds and the bees, but she cut me off to say “How could you do this to us?”

 

Tears threaten to spill and I try my hardest not to let them.

“Alice, that was incredibly selfish of you. Our family, we have a reputation. That reputation does that involve you being 15 and pregnant!” Mom lectured.

 

The sting of the tears get too much and I finally blink, letting them free.

 

“Your father and I will both agree to take and pay for you to get an abortion.”  She said. Father nodded his head, still not looking at me. 

 

“But I don’t want-,” I said before she cut me off. 

 

“I wasn’t finished, Your father and I will take and pay for you to get an abortion. Then you will leave this house. I’ve had it with you Alice. I no longer have a daughter.”

 

Those words were her last words to me. Both of my parents refused to talk or even look at me. 

 

That’s how I found myself on a park bench with a small backpack crying over everything that has happened in the past day, from having an abortion to being disowned by parents. 

 

A tall man with sparkling green eyes approached me.

 

“Need a place to stay?”

 

“Where’s your milk?” I called to Brendon. I wanted to make hot chocolate for our movie. The silver steel refrigerator was open in front of me. I stared at the refrigerator contents of bologna, a pot of soup, an obscene amount of mayonnaise. 

 

“In the door, like always.” I checked the door again. There was no milk.

 

“I don’t see it.” Brendon stood up and started walking towards his fridge. I pushed the pot of soup aside to reveal the milk.

 

“Don’t worry, it was behind the soup.” Brendon paused.

 

“No it wasn’t,” he looked confused to as why I would say the milk was behind the soup. “It was in the door, like always.”

 

“Um, Brendon… I pulled it out of the fridge, I would know.” I said jokingly, but I was annoyed. Why was he fighting with me over milk.

 

“Um, Alice…” he replied condescendingly, “I just watched you take it out of the door.”

 

What was he doing? “Are you messing with me? You just walked in!”

 

“I’ve been here the whole time…” he said. Had he? Oh god, I couldn’t remember anymore. Maybe I did pull it out of the door. No. I didn’t. I pulled it out from behind the soup.

 

“Are you feeling ok?” he put his hand on my forehead. I don’t think I was. Come to think of it, I do remember the milk being in the door last time I came over. Today wasn’t any different. I was probably just hallucinating. 

 

“Can we go watch the movie?” I ask not wanting to admit I was wrong.

 

When Brendon asked me to work for him, I felt obligated to. He made everything make sense in life, when everything was feeling especially crazy. I needed him. I loved the thought of spending time with him. I loved him.

 

Naive.

Naive.

Naive.

 

I hate Brendon Urie.

 

The day that Brendon and Sebastian brought me to work with them, I knew I had made a mistake. They introduced me to the 5 other girls who were sitting in a dark room. The room smelled like mold and was smaller than my bedroom I used to have at home. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just 5 girls sitting in a small dark room. I notice something on their arms. I felt Sebastian’s pale, bony fingers snake down my arm. I heard a  _ CLANK _ and felt the cold metal enclose are me. Shackles.

 

3 months later and I was still trapped working for Brendon and Sebastian.

 

“She had it coming. It was Savanna’s fault.” A mousy-looking girl named Ella said.

 

“Honestly, good riddance. She wasn’t the first and certainly not the last.” Kinsley said, which was completely out of character for her. She was a nice girl who was always able to find the optimism in any situation.

 

“Are you ok, Kinsley?” I whisper so the other girls won’t here.

 

“I’m fine,” she replies “Just fed up with everything that happens here.”

 

“Who is ready to make me some money?” Sebastian calls with Brendon close by his side.

 

Kinsley whispers one final “I need out,” before she is led out of the room to go meet a sleazy guy in a different bedroom.

 

I stand up to be led out of the room by Brendon wondering how I could have let myself get here.

 

After an hour of us working we all return to The Bedroom where we are once again shackled and left until our next working session.

 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I need out. I don’t think I can work for them anymore.” Kinsley said once Brendon and Sebastian left The Bedroom.

 

“I don’t think I want to leave. I don’t have a home. No one here does. Except Alice.” A small blonde girl named Paisley said.

 

Paisley, Addison, Ella and Kinsley had all been homeless. Sebastian had approached them promising more money and a better life.

 

“Alice, promise me that if we get out of here, we will find each other again.” Kinsley asked concern dripping from her voice. Her eyes began to tear up and I’m not sure if it is from the thought of us losing each other or the thought of us never getting out alive. Probably both.

 

“K, don’t worry. We will alway be together. In this room or not.” I reply. I know the other girls are envious of our friendship. From the beginning Kinsley was my rock.  We, for the past three months, had helped each other. We made the other laugh when we didn’t think we could ever smile again. We were an ear when the other needed to rant about stuff that has happened. We were a shoulder when the other needed one to cry on when a customer was particularly awful.

 

“Oatmeal! Get some oatmeal!” Sebastian snarls, his crooked teeth up turning into a wicked grin. Before he left, his black, beady eyes scanned the room making sure everything was in order. Sebastian’s eyes lingered on Ella for half a second before he turned away and slammed the door, locking it on the way out.

 

“How’s it taste?” I ask Kinsley jokingly, knowing full well it tastes like a mix of cardboard and rotten eggs and had the consistency of wet cement.

 

“Oh man, it tastes oatstanding!” Kinsley says sarcastically, and for the first time that day, I smiled.

 

The next day, Kinsley still had her mind on escaping. 

 

“Guys please, don’t you want to get out?” Kinsley pleads, desperately trying to convince me and the other three girls to help try and escape with her. “You could see your parents again!”

 

“My parents kicked me out because I was gay,” Addison retorts. “They don’t want to see me anymore.

 

“You could see that brother you always talk about, Addy.” Kinsley points out. 

 

“Fine, I’m in.” Addison says.

 

“And Paisley, you can finally see your baby girl in foster care!” Kinsley adds.

 

“I almost gave up on the thought of ever seeing my little girl again. Screw it. I’m in too.” Paisley says.

 

“Ella, are you in?” Kinsley asks, her eyes flashing towards the girl in the corner.

 

“Uh…” Ella says. Guilt flashes across her face, but was gone so fast I couldn’t even figure if it was real. “Sure, I guess.”

 

Just after Sebastian walked in to escort us to work. Kinsley looked at me pleadingly. 

 

“Are you in?” She whispers.

 

“I don’t think it is a good idea, K.” I say back.

 

“Listen Alice, I’m going with or without you.” She replies voice cracking slightly at the thought of us not being together outside The Bedroom.

 

“Then I’m in. Let’s do it!” I whisper excitedly. I think about what it would be like to be free. Free of the shackles. Free of the disgusting oatmeal we get twice a day. Free of Brendon and Sebastian. Free of strange men twice a day during work.

 

As we are walking out of the room, Sebastian pushes Ella to the side, away from the other girls. “You’re working with me today.” Sebastian says with a sick smile.

 

After an hour we return to a fresh bowl of oatmeal and a fresh bullet hole in our dignity, hopefully for the last time.

 

“So, we will do it tomorrow during our firsts work session?” Kinsley asks. Both Paisley and Addison murmur in agreement. Ella stays silent and instead nods her tear-stricken face yes.

 

“Alice?” Kinsley asks. “Are you coming too?”

 

I think for a minute. I could die if I tried to escape. Was death really worse than this place? The answer I came up with scared me more than anything.

 

“Of course I am,” I say.

 

That night hope was instilled into our minds. That hope filled all the empty and wounded spaces with warmth and light was we slept.

 

When we woke up the light was gone and everything was cold.

 

On that cold morning we were all awoken by Brendon and Sebastian yelling at each other. Through the room the only thing we heard from the argument was  _ ‘run away’  _ and  _ ‘kill’. _

 

“How did they find out?” Kinsley asked. We all looked around the room trying to figure out who the mole was. Everyone but Ella.

 

“How could you, Ella?” I ask. She seemed taken aback that I would even ask such a thing.

  
  


“I-well-I didn’t-I mean…” she stammered probably trying to find a way to explain without incriminating herself. “I want out too.” she stated. “And giving them information was the only way I knew for sure to set me free.”

 

Soon after Sebastian and Brendon walked into The Bedroom.

 

“I heard you girls had some plans,” Sebastian said “care to share?”

 

I looked at Ella who was now huddled in the corner looking guilty.

 

“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” I say, my voice wavering. 

 

“Shut up! You know exactly what we’re talking about.” Brendon yells. I’m surprised considering Brendon rarely ever talks to us girls.

 

“Jiminy Crickets, you don’t need to be upset.” Kinsley says, sarcasm with a hint of fear rolling off her sharp tongue.

 

I don’t know what finally set him off. I notice Brendon’s eyes start to tear up before he shakes his head and shouts “Really? I think I have a few pretty great reasons to be upset!”

 

Brendon reaches into his belt and pulls out a gun. “Whoa, Brendon calm down!” Sebastian says. That seemed to only make him angrier.

 

“Calm?! Oh really?! LIke you were when you killed him!”

 

One shot. She looks surprised.  _ Bang _

Two shots. She falls to the floor.  _ Bang _

Three shots. Her struggle stops.  _ Bang _

Four shots. Her breathing stops.  _ Bang _

Five shots. We only see red.  _ Bang _

Six shots. There goes our forever.  _ Bang _

 

All six shots in Kinsley’s chest. I look up to Brendon who fired all 6. Tears mixed with snot and sweat were running down his face. His hand shaking, finger on the trigger.

 

“Brendon, Buddy, put the gun down. The cops can hear gunfire.” Sebastian says trying to calm Brendon down.

 

Brendon just turns to him and says “seven for Dallon.” before shooting Sebastian in the head. Brendon collapses to the floor, sobbing about someone named Dallon.

 

We all sit in shock much like the time Savanna died. I forced my eyes closed so I wouldn’t have to see my best friend dead. After a while I open my eyes. I see Kinsley in a pool of blood. Hers or Sebastian’s, I couldn’t tell. My eyes finally tear away from her lifeless body and move to Ella’s. Her face was pale and emotionless. “This is all your fault.” I say.

 

“I know,” is the only response Ella could give.

 

It was only mere hours later when it happened. The last thing I remember is the blue lights and the red smears.

  
“We’re finally free, Kinsley.” I whisper.


	2. Chapter 2

Running was probably her worst mistake. Sebastian’s not a patient man, but he understands the value of supply and demand. 

 

“Please don’t kill me,” she had whined. That girl was always whining. 

 

She was a rarity. Fire and ice. Dark red hair, bright blue eyes. She was a girl that got what she wanted. This time would be a stark contrast.

 

“Just don’t do it again.” Sebastian had said. I think she really had him convinced, if only for a moment. Then his face switched from stern to pleasant, a good sign on anyone else. A sly smile crept across his face. His dark, shiny beetle eyes painted a picture of malice and cold indifference. No, not indifference. Sadistic pleasure.

 

The rusty pocket knife he had against her neck was extremely visible against her pale skin, but the red stains looked like camouflage next to her smattering of freckles. The ligaments in Savannah’s neck were strained and visible from flexing away from the edge of the blade. She swallowed hard, then continued panting. A tear drop fell from her chin and onto Sebastian's hand. In one quick motion, he slit her throat.

 

I was numb to it all. Killing used to make me feel something. Seeing something. Seeing someone’s neck twist, or eyes roll back used to make my stomach turn. Like when you’re on a roller coaster and it quickly drops. I used to feel the blood drain from my ears and temples and flush to my toes. There wasn't even any remorse. To feel bad, you have to care. I used to be able to feel. I used to be human. 

 

Recruiting is easy. Making girls believe you love them- and making them love you- is simple. People are simple beings. It’s a system of checks and balances. Check reactions, balance your action. Toe the line between their hero and their villain. Make them rely on you and they will follow you anywhere. Giving people what they want is the key to success.

 

I learned young, how to hurt people. How to manipulate my way through life. Green eyes and a charming smile can get you really far. People want to give you opportunities, you just need to be likable enough to get them to realize it.

 

They come willingly, the girls. Willingly enough, anyway. They come to depend on you. It’s a simple formula. Isolation, convincing, dependence.

 

First step, provocation.

 

“Where’s your milk?” Alice called from the kitchen. She was making hot chocolate.

 

“In the door, like always.” I responded from the living room, setting up the movie.

 

“I don’t see it!” Alice said after a few minutes.

 

I sighed audibly. This was my opportunity. I started walking to the kitchen, getting into character. The cold floors of the Chicago apartment squeaked under my bare feet. Just as I reached the doorway to the kitchen, Alice pushed a pot of soup aside to reveal the translucent jug containing the milk.

 

“Don’t worry, I found it, it was behind the soup,” she said, first loud, then her usual soft cadence once she noticed my presence.

 

“No, it wasn’t.” I said, a little harsh.” It was in the door.”

 

“Um, Brendon… I just pulled it out of the fridge, I think I would know.” She said, half joking, half annoyed. 

 

“Um, Alice,” I said pretending I wasn’t mocking her. “I just watched you take it out of the door,” I sounded sincere, confused. Lying is a specialty of mine.

 

“Are you messing with me?” She was confused now. “You just walked in!”

 

“I’ve been here the whole time…” insincere confusion in my voice “are you feeling okay, Alice?” I placed a hand to her forehead. Faux concern dripping from my voice so thickly, it almost felt sarcastic. 

 

“Can we just go watch the movie?” she asked after a short pause.

 

And just like that, the seed was planted. Over the course of the next few weeks, I proceeded to do little things like this in order to convince her that maybe the reality she saw wasn’t the same as everyone else’s. When she was eating cereal, she’d turn around and I’d move her spoon to the other side of the bowl. I would change the order of the picture frames on the mantle of the fireplace in her big, perfect home. I would change the names of people in my stories, in the middle of telling them. Anything to make her doubt herself. 

 

The idea behind this is to create a dependant relationship between Alice and I. She has to feel like I’m the only one who can tell her what’s really going on, and to make her feel insecure that I, or anyone else, won’t want her because she is crazy. Professionals call it gaslighting, I call it recruiting. 

 

Three months later and we were living well, Sebastian and I. We were making at least $2,000 a day and Sebastian and I had all different types of surplus running through the warehouse. That’s what we do here; we bring girls in and sell their services to men who want them. My job is to get them here, and Sebastian does the rest. 

 

“She had it coming,” Sebastian commented with a lighthearted, almost humorous tone. “All that whining.” Sebastian said, rolling his beetle eyes, but his crooked teeth had flowered into a sideways grin. Savanna was one of the girls we were using. Not the brightest, but she was good for business.

 

We were walking walking toward The Bedroom to tell the girls that they need to prepare for company, and give them clean clothes. We had lots of appointments today. Mr. Wrightson was coming today and he’d pay a hefty price for anyone short, blonde and shackled. 

 

I gave a despondent grunt. He was always saying things like that about people who had passed. “She had it coming,” “It was for the best,” acting like it wasn’t a big deal, the fact that they had died. Like the only way to deal with a death is to say it doesn’t matter. The thing is though, nothing in life is greater than death. It’s a fact of my life is that all the real change happens when someone dies. Because frankly speaking, a life is never the same once a death occurs. You go from having this constant fixture in your daily life to never having the option to see that person again. Nothing is more tragic than rewriting your lifestyle without the person you wrote it around.

 

It was like that for me, anyway.

 

He was tragically handsome. He was 6’4”, with a sharp jawline and an even sharper tongue. He was goofy, with a quick wit. His hair was long and dark and stuck out in every direction. He towered over you, but his gentle blue eyes and the smile lines beside them made you feel safe and warm. A human contradiction, the perfect storm.

 

The first time I met Dallon, I was cussing out a self-checkout machine.

 

“I PUT THE ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA YOU-”

 

“Excuse me sir,” he said, and something about it felt separate. Otherworldly. His voice had this gravity, like you couldn’t help but listen. “My manager is pretty strict about ‘you break it you buy it’ so unless you are looking to spend $4.50 on broken eggs…” he trailed off and put a placating hand on my arm. His polite smile hadn’t moved from his lips, just as my eyes hadn’t moved from his. 

 

“Yes,” I said dumbly after a short period of silence. “Of course.” I slowly lowered my arm, and his hand slid with it.

 

I set the eggs down onto the scanning table and lifted the heel of my hand bashfully to my temple.

 

“Of course,” I repeated “Yes. I’m sorry, I’m having a really weird day today.”

 

“Jiminy Crickets, I can see that,” he laughed lightly, glancing at the mixture of alcohol, rolos, and grow-in-water sponge dinosaurs. Oh, and eggs, of course.

 

“Um… Yeah,” was all I could say.

 

We stood there in humorous silence for a few moments, the employee looking at me, me looking at my shoes.

 

‘‘So, do you… need help?” he asked pointing a bit awkwardly at the few items I had left in my basket.

 

“Yeah thanks,” I said scrubbing lightly at the back of my head. 

 

So we went on like that passing and checking items, shooting furtive smiles at each other. The fluorescent lights were reflecting off of the speckled beige linoleum, and yet I had never been anywhere more beautiful. 

 

Once we had finished, he slid the last bag into my hand and even then his fingers felt familiar on my own. 

 

“That’s all,” he said, his smile positively blinding. 

 

“Yup.” I said putting all of my thought and energy into smiling back. Into giving him exactly what he was giving me.

 

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” he said casually, stepping toward me.

 

“Maybe you will,” I remarked cheekily, stepping back, toward the machine. You know, professional distance and everything.

 

“Maybe I get off at three,” one more step.

 

“Maybe I’ll see you then,” I smiled, my back hitting the machine.

 

“Maybe,” he smiled and we just stood, smiling.

 

I let my weight go against the machine, more focused on him than standing.

 

“Unexpected item in bagging area,” a robotic tone spoke out behind me.

 

And in that moment when we were laughing, I had never felt so free.

 

“We’ll be the hottest couple in Berlin!” I had said. It was a chilly, fall day. Dallon was wearing that obnoxious salmon sweater he was always thinking was so handsome.

 

“Narcissistic, aren’t we?” his tone was light, teasing.

 

“I’m sorry?” I said turning the sink off and putting down the plate I was washing.

 

“Jiminy Crickets, Brendon, you don’t need to get upset!” it was gentle, the way he said it. Not mad or passive aggressive, but calm.

 

“Jiminy Crickets,” I said mockingly “I am anyway.” I said storming into our small, drafty bedroom.

 

It was the last thing he said to me. When I came home that night, he had 7 bullet holes in his ribs and stomach. His bright salmon sweater had smears of red, and all of our Germany travel guides had large, rust colored droplets. His sharp jaw just made him look sallow. The laughter had left his lovely blue eyes. 

 

I had to sit on the phone with his adoring mother for two hours while she cried. I gave his sister her ninth birthday gift because he couldn’t. I dropped out of psychology school because I didn’t know how to do it without Dallon reading me my flash cards. I got into this whole Sebastian mess because I didn’t know what life was even  _ for _ anymore.

 

Death changes you. Savanna was no exception.

 

“You know the little mousey one?” Sebastian asked, calling me to attention. 

 

“Ella?” I asked, looking for clarification,

 

“Whatever.” he said, waving a hairy hand. “She said the girls are planning an escape.”

 

“They won’t be able to,” I said, unconcerned. “Especially now that we know.”

 

“Didn’t you hear me? They want to escape. Doesn’t that bother you?”

 

“What, you think they just want to be here? We put shackles on them, for goodness sake.”

 

“Don’t get smart with me. I’m going to kill them all!”

 

“Could you cool it with the murder, please? We’re already down a girl, thanks to you.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Sebastian ranted. “I’m always killing people for you and this is how you repay me?”

 

“For me? You only ever do things for yourself!”

 

“Oh really?” he challenged. “I killed the redhead so you could learn a thing or two about business and I killed Dallon so you could come he-”

 

I stopped a foot away from The Bedroom door. “You did what?” Eerie calm.

 

“Oh.” Sebastian said, not seeming to realize that this was a drowning sort of shock to me. “Yeah, I mean-”

 

The gun tucked into my belt suddenly felt cold. The blood had drained out of my head and I could feel my pulse in every part of my body. My ears were ringing. 

 

I watched Sebastian’s sweaty lip move, for a few more sentences before he walked into the room and I followed. 

 

“I heard you girls had some plans,” Sebastian sneered, walking into the dimly lit room. “Care to share?”

 

“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alice said after a few beats.

But it was too much. Alice and her condescending voice, Sebastian and his self-righteousness.  And Dallon. Poor Dallon.

 

“Shut up!” I snap loudly at her. “You know exactly what we’re talking about.”

 

Sebastian looked smug, like I was finally giving this a proper amount of emotion. It was killing me. I wanted to punch that smile off of his grinning mug.

 

“Jiminy Crickets,” the brunette mutters K- Kimmy? And it’s too full circle. His presence is too much. “You don’t need to be so upset…”

 

His last words were staring me right in the face. Those were His words. No one could touch them. 

 

“Really? I think I have a few pretty great reasons to be upset.” I full fledged yelled at this point.

 

“Whoa, brendon. Calm down.” Sebastian said warily, but also exasperated. How dare I have the audacity to be upset when I find out that he killed the love of my life. How rude of me. 

 

“Calm?! You mean like you were? When you killed him?” I was screaming, I was crying. I was trembling.

 

I turned, whipping my gun out, and pointing it at the brunette.

 

One shot for his blue eyes.  _ Bam. _

Two for his sister.  _ Bam. _

Three for his smile.  _ Bam. _

Four for his sharp tongue.  _ Bam _ ,

Five for Berlin.  _ Bam. _

Six for his salmon sweater.  _ Bam. _

 

“Brendon, Buddy, put the gun down, the cops can hear gunfire!”

 

I turned my head slowly toward him. I wiped the snot and sweat off of my upper lip. The tears were still streaming. The whole world felt like it was underwater.

 

Then slowly, slowly, I moved the barrel of the gun toward his head.

 

Seven. Outloud this time.

 

“For Dallon.” I said, my voice breaking intensely. My trembling finger found the trigger and just like that he was avenged. 

 

I couldn’t breathe. I fell to my knees, then my face and cried.

 

All of my senses were heightened, so the blue and red lights stung. 

 

The door clanked open. There was shouting and clicking.

 

I felt the cold metal of the handcuffs close around my wrists. I was pulled to my feet.

 

With all death comes great change. Maybe this time, I can make a change for the better.

 

My head came into contact with the officer behind me. Once he had hit the ground, the bullet came at me.

 

The pain was a sweet relief.

 

“See you in Germany,” I whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about Dallon :(((
> 
> Again, thoughts would be much appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts would be much appreciated, hope I didn't mess you up _too_ bad


End file.
